


The Puppy Love Affair

by miwahni



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-22
Updated: 2010-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miwahni/pseuds/miwahni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon's nephew is interested in Illya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Puppy Love Affair

THE PUPPY LOVE AFFAIR

 

Illya Kuryakin lay face-down on the mattress, his muscled buttocks lifted invitingly as he moaned into the pillow.

"Now, do it now!" he urged the man leaning over him.

Slowly, slowly he impaled that firm hot flesh, sinking deeply inside. Never had anything felt so good, so right, so…..

"Nicholas, if you don't get out of bed this instant and get down here for breakfast you'll miss your bus!"

Nicholas groaned in frustration and removed his hand from his throbbing erection. "All right, mum, I'm coming." Or I would have been if she hadn't intruded on my dream, he thought exasperatedly. He dragged himself out of bed and started pulling on his clothes, laid out neatly beside his bed. Then, picking his schoolbag up off his desk, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen.

The bus ride to school gave him time for reflection. The dreams were coming more regularly now, and were always the same – he and Illya were about to make love. Sometimes he climaxed in his sleep, waking to stickiness & needing to change his pyjamas. Most times however he awoke, swollen and hard, and had just the memory of the dream to cling to as he brought himself to completion.

Nicholas still remembered vividly the day a year earlier when his Uncle Lee had announced to a bemused family that Illya was more than just his partner, more than a friend. That day, something had quietly uncurled in Nicholas' stomach, something that had laid quiescent all these years, unacknowledged and unwelcome. That day, Nicholas had become consciously aware of the fact he had kept hidden even from himself – he preferred men. He was a homosexual. And Uncle Lee, by declaring his love so openly, gave him hope that he, too, would find a place for himself in the world.

His infatuation with the blonde Russian was a more recent thing. Last Fourth of July the whole family – including all his uncles, aunts, and cousins – went camping in the Maine woods. Uncle Lee hadn't been sure if he could make it but finally he had turned up, in the passenger seat of a red Corvette driven by Illya. It was a loan car, borrowed from their employer, Illya explained. Nicholas thought that was pretty cool. Nicholas was glad they made it - he had always been fond of Uncle Lee, and Illya spoke to him like an adult, not a child as the rest of the family did.

Uncle Lee had an injured leg so he spent most of the weekend just sitting around in the sun, watching the others, and reading when their pursuits took them away from the campsite. Illya danced attendance on his lover but still participated in most of the family activities. He was a mean soccer player, and Nicholas had cause to wish they were on the same side as a sudden tackle swept his legs out from beneath him. Nicholas shot a foot out as he fell, effectively bringing Illya down with him. However the man landed lightly, rolled and regained his feet in one fluid motion. He really was graceful as a cat, Nicholas thought.

That night, as Nicholas drifted off to sleep, his last conscious memory was of the feel of the Russian's body against him as they landed on the ground together.

The next day the extended family had planned a hike in the woods. Illya elected not to go, saying that he had clambered about in enough woods to last him a lifetime, and he preferred to spend the time relaxing in the sun with Napoleon. Illya was the only person Nicholas knew who called his uncle Napoleon, instead of the abbreviation that the rest of the family used.

"Why do you always use Uncle Lee's full name?" Nicholas asked. "Napoleon is such a mouthful."

Illya had glanced sideways at Uncle Lee before replying. "More than a mouthful I would say."

Uncle Lee nearly choked on his coffee. "Give the boy a break, 'Lyusha, he's only 17." he finally gasped out in between fits of laughter.

Nicholas stopped to think about what he said, trying to figure out why such a simple observation could cause such hilarity. Suddenly the penny dropped and he felt his face blush furiously. "I, uh, just meant, well….never mind what I meant." He ran to catch up with the others as they left the camping ground, praying that the blush would subside before anyone else noticed. But the image conjured up by Illya's comment stayed with him, taking on new life in his imagination. Nicholas spent the hike fleshing out the scene in his mind, creating his own details to fill in the gaps in his knowledge.

By the time he crawled into his sleeping bag that night the fantasy was fully-formed; Illya, cradling his balls in one gentle hand while placing his mouth over Nicholas' burgeoning erection. Exactly what happened next was a bit hazy but Nicholas imagined it involved friction so his mind obligingly added the required movement to the scene. He took himself in hand, his erection fuelled by his fantasy, and had to bite his wrist to stop himself from calling Illya's name out loud when he came.

Nicholas lay awake for a long while after that. He felt confused, angry with himself for giving in so readily to his own desire, and ashamed of himself for wanting his uncle's lover. He also felt sticky as his semen dried on his belly and chest. Finally, deciding that he would sleep easier if he were clean, at least, he wriggled out of his sleeping bag and headed down to the river behind the camping ground, a towel slung over his shoulder and his toiletry bag in his hand.

It was late, and the whole camp was in darkness, but Nicholas had been coming here with his mum and dad for years and was familiar with the pathways. As he drew near the river he noticed a light on the bank, thrown by a torch wedged into a gap between two rocks. Instinctively he halted, afraid of discovery, but his approach had been soundless, bare feet on a packed-earth track, and the two figures illuminated by the beam's glow were oblivious to his presence. They were kneeling on a blanket spread out over the sand, and their naked bodies glistened from a recent immersion in the river. Nicholas was mesmerised, like a rabbit caught in headlights unable to move away to save himself. He had to watch. The way that Illya was touching Uncle Lee's face. The way their tongues touched before their lips met, the way their mouths closed hungrily around each others'. Nicholas wanted to be touched like that, he wanted to be held like that. He wanted to be kissed like that. By Illya. He wanted to be the one grabbing Illya's ass, pulling him closer so that their groins met and rubbed together.

Nicholas' free hand snaked down into his pyjama bottoms where his straining penis was demanding attention. He stroked himself, slowly at first, then more furiously as his climax approached. All the time his eyes feasted on the scene before him, of his Uncle Lee and Illya loving each other. It was scary, it was erotic, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He both feared and desired it. He stuffed one corner of his towel into his mouth to muffle any moans which might escape his throat. And when Illya's long strong fingers closed around Uncle Lee's shaft, it was all Nicholas needed to reach orgasm, spurting repeatedly into his pyjama pants.

Gradually his breathing slowed, and he became aware once more of his surroundings. He was standing on a dirt track at night, wearing only pyjama bottoms – wet, gloppy pyjama bottoms at that – with fresh semen overlaying the dried stuff from earlier that night. Not so groovy. And his Uncle, his favourite uncle, accompanied by his drop-dead gorgeous lover, was coming up the path in his direction. Apparently they had decided that their tent was a more appropriate arena for their sport rather than the great outdoors, where anyone could stumble upon them. Nicholas hadn't spent years in the Boy Scouts for nothing. He silently moved off the track and behind a thick bush. Uncle Lee and Illya passed so close he could reach out and touch them but they didn't notice him there. Nicholas wasn't surprised by that, if their senses were as dulled by arousal as his had been.

 

The weekend came to a close, and everyone went their respective ways. Nicholas treasured his memories, at first replaying them nightly in his head as he drifted off to sleep. Some nights he masturbated, other times he merely wondered what it would be like to be loved so much, so freely. Slowly the images faded from his mind, and he got on with his life, studying for exams, playing sport, absorbing himself in the routines of his life.

Then his mother dropped the bombshell, driving him back from basketball practice one night.

"Your father and I have our 20th wedding anniversary at the end of this month, and we've arranged to go to Boston for a second honeymoon. Your aunt Evelyn is coming to stay with Kate and Eric, but we thought, seeing as how you're 18 now, you might prefer some more adult company. So I rang your Uncle Lee, and it's all fixed – you're going to New York for the week. You'll stay with Uncle Lee and Illya, provided they are still there. Of course, if their work sends them out of state you'll have to come home. But I expect you'll get to spend at least some time with them. Whaddaya say, Nicky-boy?"

"W-wow," he managed weakly, his thoughts in turmoil, "that will be cool. What about school, though?"

"I've spoken to your principal and he has agreed that you can take the time. You're far enough ahead in all your courses for it not to affect your grades."

Nicholas sat silently for the rest of the trip home. The idea of spending a week in such close proximity to Illya had re-awakened the desire he thought he had conquered.

And so it was that, on a Friday night a few weeks later, Nicholas found himself alighting from a taxi outside a modern apartment block in New York City. Rain had been threatening all evening and finally let go, just as he was retrieving his suitcase from the trunk of the cab. By the time he found the correct door and rang for admittance he was wet through, chilled and shivering. He had to wait for a moment while an elaborate security system was disengaged, and then the door was thrown open.

The sight that met his eyes was enough to warm him thoroughly. Illya, grey sweatpants and soft blue woollen sweater, feet bare on the plush carpet, welcomed him into the apartment. He quickly reset the security then turned to the younger man.

"Nikolai, good to see you. Your uncle isn't home at present, he was called away at the last moment, but he should return tomorrow. Now, you need to change your clothes before you catch a chill. Come with me and I'll show you to your room."

Nicholas had never been to his uncle's apartment before and he looked around with interest. The living area was dominated by a huge fireplace with a marble surround. To one side of the fireplace a modern hi-fi was ensconced on a chrome stand, while on the other side a television set took pride of place. The carpet was claret-coloured, thick and plush, while the low-backed designer couches were white as were the walls. The room was modern as tomorrow, but felt sterile, antiseptic.

Illya led him to the den, in which a pull-out sofa had been turned into a bed. This room looked more lived-in, containing an overstuffed easy chair with a reading lamp angled over the top, and bookcases lining three walls. The cases were full with an eclectic assortment of books.

"Have you read all of these?" Nicholas asked with interest.

Illya smiled. "Most of them. Some are your uncle's, and I haven't made it to them yet. But I will."

"Wow."

"You'll sleep in here. There's space in the closet for your clothes – I moved some of your uncle's suits to make room for you. Your bed is made up for you. Come, put your case down and I'll show you where the bathroom is."

Nicholas had never seen such a neat bathroom, living as he did with two younger siblings as well as his parents. He was worried about upsetting the ordered perfection of this room with its black and white tiles, and white porcelain. The only colour in the room was added by the red towels which hung exactly straight on their racks.

"You can stow your things in here." Illya said, opening the sliding door on a wall-mounted cabinet. Space had been made for Nicholas to put his shaving kit, and other bits and pieces.

Once Nicholas was unpacked, and changed into dry clothes, Illya took him back out to the kitchen. The colour scheme carried through into this room with the same black and white tiles as the bathroom, on the walls, the floors and the counter tops. The few appliances on the counter were chrome. Set out on a chrome-legged table were two small bowls, and two sets of chopsticks.

"I ordered takeout just before you arrived – I hope you eat Chinese food. It should be here soon."

"I most definitely eat Chinese food!" Nicholas replied happily. Takeout was a luxury his parents couldn't often afford. This was going to be some week, he thought to himself. Chinese food, New York – and Illya. Now THAT was going to be the hard part, as well.

Dinner arrived shortly afterwards and they settled down to eat. While they polished off their meal they chatted, mostly about Uncle Lee, and Nicholas' parents, whom Illya liked. But then Nicholas turned the conversation to an issue that troubled him.

"Illya, is it okay if I ask you some stuff? Because there's no-one else I can ask. It's like, dad would have a spak attack or something, and the guys at school….well, they're really into the girl-boy thing, you know?"

"What do you want to ask me, Nikolai?"

Nicholas let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Well, you and Uncle Lee…I know you're, like, lovers, and I wondered. Because I feel the same. I don't care about girls. Not like my friends do, anyway. But I watch the guys in the change rooms after gym class, and I want to touch. I dream of men, not women…Illya, I'm homosexual. I've just never been able to talk about it with anyone else, and there's so much I want to know." There, he'd said it, at last it was out in the open.

Illya sighed. "I don't know that I'm the right person to talk to about this, Nicky…" except the soft Russian accent made it sound more like Neeky, turned his name into a caress. Nicholas shivered inside.

"Can I ask, anyway? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I won't ask anything too personal, like details about you and Uncle Lee. But just basic stuff, I guess."

"Such as?"

"Well, for starters – doesn't it hurt? Sex with a man, I mean. Considering the size difference." Nicholas felt he was blushing furiously and hoped that in the dim light, Illya wouldn't notice. He wasn't able to look at Illya's face, otherwise he'd have realised that the Russian, too, was bright red with embarrassment.

However, Illya was determined to put this boy on the right track, not scare him and possibly ruin what could be the best experience of his life.

"Nicky, when you are ready, when it is with the right partner, someone you love and trust and are relaxed with, it does not hurt. Well, maybe a little at first but you adjust, quickly. Your body will be your guide; listen to what it tells you. You will know when it is right."

"But does it feel good, having that done to you? Or only if you are doing it to someone else?" Nicholas was still studying the tabletop in front of him, unable to raise his eyes as he waited to see whether Illya would answer him. He wouldn't have been surprised if Illya had gotten mad and yelled at him to mind his own business.

"Oh dear." Illya shook his head. "Nicky, just how much do you know about your own body? No, forget the question. You're eighteen and American. What can I say." He shook his head again, inwardly contrasting his own cosmopolitan upbringing to that of this sheltered boy. "Believe me, this is one instance where it is better to receive than to give."

"I don't know." Nicholas shrugged. "It all just seems really scary."

"You'll meet someone, Nicky, someone who thrills you, who sets your heart racing. Someone you love, and respect, who loves and respects you in return. Hopefully, someone experienced, who knows how to relax you and help you overcome your fear. It need not be scary at all." Illya grinned across the table at the young man, who had finally raised his gaze to look directly at Illya. "Now come and help me clean up the kitchen before Napoleon gets home and sees it in such a mess. That truly is scary."

 

The week passed in a blur. Uncle Lee had managed to get time off work and spent the week showing Nicholas the sights of the Big Apple. Of course Nicholas had been to New York many times in the past, but never with such an erudite guide. They did the museums, went to a Broadway show, even caught a baseball game. Illya went into the office each day, grumbling about being left with all the paperwork, but it was a good-natured grumble, more habitual than real. He was glad to see the boy, who had been so tense at the beginning of the week, beginning to unwind in his uncle's presence.

Still, the evenings they were home were awkward for Nicholas. Uncle Lee and Illya made no great show of their relationship, it wasn't like they made out on the couch or anything, but the little things were all there. A quick kiss as they passed in the hallway; or sharing a shower. All things which fired Nicholas' imagination. His infatuation with Illya had increased as the week progressed and it wasn't helped when the man walked around shirtless, or Uncle Lee stretched out on the couch with his head in Illya's lap. Nicholas imagined himself lying there, and turning his head to press a kiss against the front of Illya's pants. How would it taste, he wondered, how would it feel? And it didn't help, each night when he went to bed, knowing what had to be going on in the other room.

Soon enough it was Nicholas' last night in New York. Uncle Lee's boss had called him into the office for an emergency meeting so it was just Nicholas and Illya, same as the start of the week. This time, though, Illya had prepared a roast dinner, carefully setting aside a portion for Uncle Lee to have when he got home.

Nicholas was quiet during the meal, and still subdued afterwards as he methodically dried the clean dishes Illya handed him from the sink. He wasn't looking forward to going home the next day. As uncomfortable as the evenings were, he had still really enjoyed his time with his uncle and his friend. Although he still wished he could be more than friends with Illya. What would it take to get the man to look at him in the same way he looked at Uncle Lee? Nicholas decided to take his courage in both hands and get it off his chest.

"Illya?"

"Yes?"

"Remember what you said to me, about finding someone who was experienced, someone I loved and trusted and respected?"

"Yes?" Illya prompted, wondering where this conversation was heading.

"Well, I've found someone. He's attractive and sexy and kind, and I think I really love him."

Illya looked puzzled. "That was quick. Where did you find Mr Wonderful?"

"Right here." Nicholas dropped the tea towel on the bench and encircled Illya's waist with both arms. "I didn't even need to look. Illya, I love you. I've loved you for so long, since Fourth of July at least, maybe forever."

Illya gently extracted himself from the younger man's embrace. Nicholas felt devastated by the rejection and stared at the floor, feeling like all kinds of a fool. What a stupid, stupid thing he had done! Risked his friendship, and more, on an impulse.

But once again Illya surprised him, taking Nicholas by the hand and leading him to the couch. "Nicholas, sit. We need to talk, my friend."

Nicholas did as he was told. It was far easier to sit anyway, the way his legs were trembling and refusing to hold him up.

"You must know that I am nearly twice your age." No response from Nicholas. "And in a committed relationship with your uncle." Still no comment from the younger man. "What you have is a – craze? Cramp?"

Nicholas smiled in spite of the way he felt inside. "Crush, Illya. You're saying I have a crush on you. But it's more than that. I feel it. It's real."

" All right, I am going to tell you a story, a true story. And you are never going to repeat this, not to anyone. You especially are not going to tell your Uncle Lee. Clear?" Nicholas nodded his head so Illya continued.

"When I was very young, about your age maybe younger, I fell in love with my gymnastics coach. He was tall and handsome, with a wonderful physique. Beautiful soulful eyes. Strong hands. He was also in his thirties, married, with two children. But I was sure he would love me, if only he could see me for who and what I was." Illya smiled, then. "Ah, Stanislav. I haven't thought of him in years."

"So what happened?" Nicholas was intrigued, in spite of himself.

Illya sighed. "Unlike you, I never had the courage to make my declaration so openly. I followed Stas around like a puppy, I gave him small gifts, I always managed to be where he was at any given time. Finally he became aware of my infatuation, and took me aside for a little talk."

Illya stopped then; he seemed to be lost in the mists of memory. "What did he say?" Nicholas prompted, overcome by curiosity.

"He told me that for everyone there is a right person, and a right time. He told me not to waste my days dreaming of the impossible, but to go out and make my own possibilities. He explained that he could never be right for me, that he was of a different generation, that what I felt was mere puppy love. He was concerned that my infatuation could blind me to a better option, should it present itself." Illya smiled ruefully at the memory. "I don't think I was the first of his students to become besotted with him. Anyway. He told me to make certain I didn't settle for the first opportunity that came along. He told me to beware of being in love with love, to make sure it was the real thing. He told me many things."

By this time Illya had risen from the couch and paced across to the fireplace, where he suddenly turned to face Nicholas again.

"Do you want to know the most important thing he told me?"

Nicholas nodded. He wanted to hear this more than anything.

"He told me that some day someone would come along who was deserving of me. That I would find a soulmate. He told me to make sure I kept my heart free, ready for that person. I was so sure he was wrong – and then I met Vassily."

"And?" Nicholas whispered, caught up in the moment.

"And the sound of the key in the lock tells me that Napoleon has arrived home, and this conversation never happened." Illya responded dryly.

 

Nicholas had gone home the next day, but he continued to fantasise about Illya. As he rode the bus to school he was still thinking of the dream his mother had interrupted, and wondering if he would ever find his own soulmate. Lost in thought, he didn't notice the young man that stopped in the aisle alongside his seat.

"Um, excuse me, but is that seat taken?" The soft voice brought Nicholas out of his reverie. Standing next to him was a tall young man, dufflebag in hand, and pointing to the seat alongside Nicholas where his schoolbag was thrown. Hastily Nicholas moved his bag and gestured for the stranger to sit. The young man smiled; a shy smile, and Nicholas found himself looking into the darkest blue eyes he had ever seen, so blue they were almost violet.

"Hi, I'm Allan. I've, um, been watching you for a while, you always seem to sit by yourself."

"Oh hi, my name's Nicholas."

"I know." Allan averted his gaze. "I asked around until I found someone who knew you. I'm training to be a teacher and I'm currently doing my practical at the Junior High – you graduate soon, right?"

"Next month." Nicholas tried very hard not to stare at Allan; at those incredible eyes, at his black curly hair that looked so soft, at the muscular body revealed by the man's jeans and t-shirt.

"So Nicholas, what are you doing after school? Want to go for a soda?"

"Yeah, sure." Nicholas agreed. "Why not." He suddenly felt happier than he could recall feeling in a long, long time.

 

Napoleon and Illya lay across the bed in a tangle of arms, legs, and sheets, sated and dozy. Neither of them wanted to move; both of them recognised the need for a shower. Finally they disentangled themselves from each other and the bedclothes, and made their way into the bathroom.

The shower presented another opportunity to explore each other's bodies and to reconfirm known territory. Napoleon knew, for example, that Illya's left nipple was much more sensitive than his right, and application of a judicious tongue would result in a straining erection. Illya knew that if he mouthed Napoleon's balls, just so, his partner would writhe. Each put his knowledge to the test. Before long they were back on the bed, not wanting to risk injury from a slip in the shower.

Illya was panting, hoarse with his need for his beautiful lover. Napoleon never looked better than when engaged in lovemaking, that perfect hair mussed, those chocolate eyes melting with desire. For this reason, Illya preferred they face each other when they made love; he wanted to see the effect he had on Napoleon.

This time was no different. They kissed, deeply, tongues entwining until they gasped for air. Napoleon's kisses aroused Illya to an aching hardness. He could feel an answering response in his lover's body as Napoleon's erection pressed against his thigh. His hands alternately stroked Napoleon's back and kneaded the firm muscles, finally slipping down to cup Napoleon's buttocks. He traced his fingers along the cleft and felt Napoleon shudder as his fingers reached his opening. Still, this was not what Illya wanted, not tonight. Tonight he wanted Napoleon inside him. Earlier that evening Illya had loved Napoleon gently, thoroughly, and now he wanted the same for himself.

Napoleon was only too happy to oblige, reaching down to prepare his lover before thrusting firmly into him. Illya sucked in his breath as Napoleon's cock stroked his prostate; some times he didn't even need stimulation of his cock, he could reach orgasm just from this incredible feeling. Illya thought that tonight could well be one of those times as the edge had already been taken off their urgency. Sure enough, Napoleon spun their lovemaking out, savouring the heat, the tightness, the writhing, moaning wonder that was Illya. His strokes were deep and slow, rocking them gently together on the bed, gradually picking up the tempo as Illya made it plain he wanted more, harder; finally succumbing to need as Illya arched off the bed with his legs around Napoleon's waist in a pincer grip, then threw his arms around Napoleon's shoulders and crushed him to his chest, making his small soft sounds of completion, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. It was enough for Napoleon, sending him over the edge to join Illya at that point where they were rocked by waves of pleasure.

Slowly, slowly their ragged breathing subsided, and heartbeats returned to normal. It was then that Napoleon turned to his lover.

"Oh, I had a message to give you, I completely forgot."

"Who from?" Illya asked sleepily. He was contemplating another trip to the bathroom but couldn't – quite – summon the energy to move.

"Nicholas rang. He said to tell you that Stanislav was right all along. He wouldn't explain any further, he said you'd know what he meant."

Illya smiled to himself as he snuggled into Napoleon. Lucky Nicholas, he thought. Lucky me.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Napoleon's family was inspired by Nataliya's fic "The Family Affair" although the usage of the name Nick was coincidental at best; her Nick is an adult while mine is the 18-year-old boy in this story, named after my nephew. I just loved the whole idea of Napoleon having this huge extended family that all got together.
> 
> Originally posted to File40 under BevW prior to developing my fandom pseudonym.


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